Not Needed - Hitsuranai
by KanzanshinoKobashitonoKekyoku
Summary: He was wanted, but now he's not needed. But is it that one? Or the other one? Which one was needed and which wasn't? Which one was dead and which one is alive? Where had they both gone? Are they really not needed?


Disclaimer: I don't own anime or manga. But it's definitely my fic. No plagiarism.

* * *

The man steps into the house, charred and destroyed beyond recognition from what it once was; a homey and beautiful home, however tiny or crowded it may have been. It was just a small two story house amongst all the destruction and mayhem around it, but it meant so much to the man who was standing before it.

Right now the place is all messed up, burnt clothes scattered around and broken furniture pieces everywhere along with some big pieces that were overturned. The man looks over everything, feeling a sense of nostalgia trying to overwhelm him. He saw a piece of tattered cow print suit. He bent down and picked it up, hearing ghosts of obnoxious laughter ringing in his ears but when he looked up there wasn't a single soul in sight bar the skittering mice and rats in the once impeccably clean and sanitary house.

He walked into the kitchen, its roof already collapsed into the cooking and dining areas. He looked in it, seemingly tasting the bitter tang of espresso, coming directly from Italy, wafting into his nose. But when his eyes landed on where the smell was flowing from, there was only a swift gust of wind replacing the familiar sense. The guilt he lives with eats at him.

Then he wandered towards the living space that's now completely blown up and charred up all over. Roaming into the area, he disturbs the slumbering ashes, causing it fly up in billows of smoke. Before it clears, he felt the warmth of people standing besides him along with phantom wails of laughter and arguing floating into his ears and the pitter patter of feet is heard running amok. Yet, when everything clears away all that's left is a lonely and disintegrated room with no warmth whatsoever; only giving the people who enter it a feeling of hopelessness and loss.

Suddenly it starts raining outside and the wind diffuses into the annihilated house in the middle of ruins. _Death, _the wind whispered. _Torture, _the rain shouted against the pitter patter of the rain drops. The man feels despair creeping up on him, grabbing him and trying to drag him into the pits of the never ending darkness. He shakes off the feeling and proceeds to go upstairs instead of lingering on the bottom floor.

As he ambles up the steps leisurely he can literally see the people once living there running up and down it, some tripping and some making graceful, or crude, jumps down and up it. He imagines the high pitched voice of a child sailing from the landing up top, so distinctly childish yet the man can just clearly hear the world weary voice of someone who has seen and done far too much. The guilt tugs at him again, accompanying it is a painful twinge of affliction.

When he gets to the second story he walks straight to his destination, a completely blown up room with no roof or even walls, just a ruined desk and a demolished bed. He walks up to the desk, letting the light drizzle drip on him, and the memories -not dreams, not anymore- hit him right smack in the face and he almost stumbles back and fall, but he didn't for he was taught by the best -he knew he was- and won't falter from just this.

He looks at the desk and only its charred surface is visible to the untrained eye. He knew where to look, and found the secret compartment just beneath the drawer of the desk. He opened it and took out an old diary that was supposed to really serve as a journal but ended up as a diary. He opened the book, allowing the familiar smell emitted from it to sway to his nose, the first smell of something he recognized and not just something imaginary-not anymore. Then he opened it to a certain entry and started to read, bypassing all the other entries altogether to just get to that one, _his _-and his, all the same- special entry.

* * *

It was an act of betrayal. How could he? How could he have done that to us? To me?! Just because he had to choose, it didn't mean that he had to have chosen the route of him dying and everyone staying alive. What, did he just think that we would've abandoned him in life and death situations or something like that so he thought that he should just go and be our shield; die in our stead just so he won't have to be pushed to do it in the end? Are we really that unreliable, unable to be trusted? Are our promises of staying with each other, trusting each other that much of an unbelievable lie? Are the vows of having fun together and going to festivals together along with living that easy to break? Are we really that bad of comrades or is he just that distrusting? Is he just a conceited dick head that can't trust anyone because of an incident before? If so, I've never heard any of it before! Please, note sarcasm. If it's thus so then he's a frickin damned bastard! Then if he comes back and gives me a f*ckin' crappy lie of because he just wanted us to live, I'll kill him off myself again! Had he not thought about the lives of the people that would be left behind?! Had he not thought about the consequences of his death?! How could he be so selfish! Leaving us -me- all alone to suffer in this world. He should've tried! He should've tried harder and not give up like that. It was a cheat. He cheated us and death and himself! He doesn't have to feel all this pain, he doesn't have to fell this agony, he's not in pain like we are right now! He practically ran away from everything and left the pieces for us to pick up and try to piece it back unsuccessfully.

I can't stand it, we can't... I want it to be like it was back then, even with all the explosions and destruction. Those times... it wasn't like now, a lie of reality. I hope that I can die too, and be with you, wherever you're at. It would be much better than staying where we are right now, suffering and struggling to stay alive for even just an hour more! But I won't do it. I'm not selfish, like you are. You left, and shortened your pain but we're the ones left behind and we're the ones trying, you're not. You're not here anymore, even if we miss you so much. I won't die and I'm not going to say that it's because we don't want to waste your sacrifice, because that isn't the case here. I'm living to show that your decision to die was a foolish one. I'm living to show you that I will achieve happiness while you're dead and all alone somewhere by yourself. I'll live and show you what a great time I -we- can have even without you here. I'll live and do everything you can't and didn't do.

We'll live, and become stronger to stay alive. We'll stay alive for each other, and not because we want each other to live a little more in this cruel and harsh world but because we want to spend more time with each other. We want to have more fun times, we want to pass many New Years with each other, we want to watch many more beautiful fireworks with each other, and last but not least, we want to share all of those experiences with people by our side. I won't die and meet you, no matter how much I want to. I'll live and show you what a bad choice you made. I'll live, along with all the others that are left, and not you. No, not anymore, since you gave our promise of tomorrow to yesterday.

I won't let you be needed in my -our- lives. I won't let you drag us to our death. I won't let any of us join you. I won't let any of us mourn for you, 'cause you made a dumb decision. But I'll allow this. I'll allow us to miss you, because even if you're such a stupid, insensitive, and harsh bastard we still love you. I'll allow us to want you, because it'd be a lie to say that we don't want you since you were one our precious ones. Lastly, I won't allow you to fade away from our hearts, I'll allow you to always have a space there and you'll always be remembered. Still, even through all of those I won't let you be needed. You're not, and can't be, needed by us anymore because if it's so we can't live on. We'll always be stuck in the past and unable to move on. I can't have us yearning for a person who will never return to us anymore, we need all our will and attention to stay alive. We don't need you, and we'll live happily without you hard headed and selfish bastard.

Signed, ********

* * *

As the man finished with reading the entry in the worn and nearly disintegrated diary that he's holding in his hands, a tear slides down his cheek, mixing in with the light rain like it never existed, and he mouths, 'I know.' while letting a bitter and wry grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

Then he turns on his heels, his long black jacket billowing behind him as he walks out of the torn up room where he found the diary. That's the last time he will be going back there. When he reaches the charred up threshold he speaks, "I'll see you later, but bye. We won't meet again ********. We can't. Sayonara." Ending it with a bitter smile, the man once again leaves the destroyed two story house, once a home of his but not anymore.


End file.
